Part of it was also that he wanted to push forward before giving her time to think and talk herself out of it.

“Th… thank you….”

In the end, Lysiana stopped hesitating, stepped lightly onto his thigh, and climbed onto the horse’s back.

Thear swung up easily behind her and took the reins. She had apparently put some effort into her appearance, because her hair carried a pleasant scent.

His face flared hot in an instant.

Afraid something unfortunate might happen, Thear quietly turned his head to the side and breathed. Thanks to that, his ambitious plan to strike up a conversation fell apart without a fight.

Meanwhile, the horse, helpfully oblivious to the situation, cleared the forest in no time at all.

“There’s a tent over there.”

“…Yes….”

Lysiana gave a small nod.

That was the best he could manage in an attempt to break the awkward silence.

Thear cursed his own way with words and pulled the reins back slightly to slow the horse down. But the sound of people talking grew steadily louder, mocking his feeble effort.

“You can let me down here….”

“Didn’t you twist your ankle? It’ll be hard to walk, so let’s get you closer.”

As a last resort, Thear steered the horse as close to the tent as he could.

“You should have a doctor look at that injury. I’ll take my leave here.”

“W, wait…!”

This time, it was Lysiana who reached out to stop him as he turned to go.

“At least take this….”

Her fingers flushed red to the very tips, she held out a pale yellow handkerchief. It was embroidered in one corner with a white feather stitched in white thread.

“Your trousers got dirty because of me….”

Her eyes darted briefly to Thear’s trousers.

“Please use this to wipe it off.”

“…Thank you.”

Caught off guard by the unexpected kindness, Thear took the handkerchief she offered with a slightly stunned expression.

The fabric was soft to the touch. He wondered if running a hand through Lysiana’s hair would feel something like this.

“Lysiana!”

A noblewoman called out to Lysiana from beneath the shade of the tent. She appeared to be her mother.

Thear quickly excused himself so Lysiana wouldn’t find herself in an awkward spot.

He made his way back to where he had been before, but his thoughts kept returning to her.

She didn’t seem to mind.

It was the first time.

The first time someone hadn’t ignored him or made it obvious they wanted nothing to do with him, even after he gave his name.

Whenever he introduced himself as the illegitimate son of the Havertz Marquisate, everyone turned away coldly and shut him out completely.

Will she be at the evening banquet?

Thear generally avoided banquets and parties. There was no point in seeking out wounds when he already knew he would only be ignored.

But if it meant seeing Lysiana again, that was a different matter.

If they crossed paths at the banquet, he wanted to try speaking to her once more. As long as she didn’t mind, of course.

What do women like to talk about?

It would be better to think it through in advance so he didn’t say something stupid.

Thear tried to recall how his brothers acted when they were fawning over young ladies.

Books they had read recently, favorite flowers or colors. He could also compliment her on the dress she was wearing today.

It suddenly struck Thear that he was acting like a man desperate to make something happen with Lysiana.

This is just socializing.

Even a half-wit was still a noble, and he had been invited to a social gathering, so behaving accordingly was only natural.

Besides, Thear had spent his entire life being treated like an impurity, from the moment he was weaned to this very day.

So this restless feeling was simply the product of accumulated deprivation. There was nothing wrong with Thear at all.

After dealing with a hundred young ladies who scrambled to get away the moment he so much as thought about speaking to them, anyone would see Lysiana as an angel sent down from the heavens.

If we run into each other at the banquet, I’ll ask how her ankle is doing, and then….

He tried to hold down the giddiness rising in him like a child’s, but he couldn’t focus on the hunt at all.

The sound of Lysiana’s small laugh kept circling in his ears, and his heart felt like it was being tickled.

If he asked her to dance under the excuse of formality, would she accept?

The moment he let himself indulge in that kind of useless fantasy, like some lovesick boy experiencing his first crush, he pulled the bowstring back too hard and it snapped.

“Ah, d*mn it!”

The compressed air burst with a sharp crack and whipped across the back of his hand. Blood welled up instantly from the deep, jagged gash and dripped steadily down.

Woof woof! The hunting dog caught the scent of blood and paced anxiously around him, barking.

“It’s fine.”

Thear patted himself down in search of something to stop the bleeding. But he quickly realized he had nothing useful on him and felt a wave of frustration.

I don’t want to ruin it.

Thear stood there deliberating, the handkerchief Lysiana had given him clutched tightly in his hand.

He had folded it neatly and tucked it in his pocket because he couldn’t bring himself to use it.

“Haa.”

Thear let out a sigh as he looked down at the stinging wound on the back of his hand.

The sun was still far from setting, and the hunting had not gone well.

Going back empty-handed meant enduring a beating from his half-brothers, but pressing on with his hand bleeding this badly wasn’t much of an option either.

His choices were few.

“…No help for it.”

Reluctantly, Thear took out Lysiana’s handkerchief and pressed it against the wound to stop the bleeding.

I’ll thank her for it.

He thought it would feel natural to approach her by saying the handkerchief had helped him stop the bleeding.

Expressing gratitude meant offering a small flower wouldn’t seem out of place, and it could also give him an opening to ask her to dance.

With that much figured out, even getting hurt didn’t seem like such a bad thing.

Thear moved with greater purpose to give himself enough time to get ready for the banquet. Whenever he thought about his plans for the evening, his scattered focus snapped right back into place.

“Your skills have improved.”

“Thank you.”

The Marquis of Havertz offered Thear a brief word of praise when he returned with a substantial haul. The nobles nearby naturally fell over themselves to flatter the Marquis, and Thear stood at the edge of the familiar scene like a shadow, waiting for the right moment.

“Father.”

“Hm?”

“May I attend the evening banquet as well?”

In high spirits, the Marquis of Havertz gave a ready nod.

“No reason why not. Comb your hair like you did at your coming-of-age ceremony and you’ll look fine.”

“Yes, sir.”

As the Marquis of Havertz tossed out the advice with an air of generosity, Thear’s half-brothers shot him a brief, sharp look.

He paid them no mind. Thear went straight back to his room and began getting ready. Changing clothes was simple enough, but styling his hair was still something he hadn’t quite mastered, and it took him a good while.

What if she doesn’t recognize me?

He oiled the comb and slicked his hair back, then rinsed it out again with water, worried Lysiana might not recognize him.

After much deliberation, he finally managed something that looked presentable, but by then the banquet had already started.

Thear made his way to the banquet hall at a hurried pace. Beneath the dazzling lights and swaying chandeliers, the social gathering was in full swing.

Where is she?

Thear pushed through the crowd of nobles dressed up like peacocks, searching for Lysiana.

…Did she not come?

But she was nowhere to be found. Instead, he spotted a middle-aged man people were calling the Viscount of Asherton.

The man had clearly already had quite a bit to drink and was moving from one group to the next, bowing and scraping far too eagerly.

Thear hovered near him, trying to find a chance to ask about Lysiana’s whereabouts. But the Viscount of Asherton gave him a cold sidelong glance and promptly moved away.

So someone like me, a half-wit, isn’t even worth speaking to.

It seemed the cursed commoner blood in his veins outweighed whatever the Havertz name was worth.

Fair enough. The man had two sons born of noble blood alone, which meant Thear didn’t even qualify as a spare. In other words, he was worthless.

“Your sons seem more impressive with each passing year, Your Lordship.”

“You’re looking well yourself. How is that business venture coming along?”

But it seemed luck was on Thear’s side today, at least.

The Viscount of Asherton greeted the Marquis of Havertz warmly, apparently already acquainted with him. The Marquis was happy to receive him, and just as happily called Thear over to his side.

“This is my third son. Have you met?”

“Ah, yes. I saw him at his coming-of-age ceremony. He looks so different I nearly didn’t recognize him.”

The Viscount of Asherton covered his discomfort as best he could and offered a light joke.

Thear put the humiliation of being treated like air completely out of his mind and played the part of a friendly acquaintance.

“I’m Thear.”

He extended his hand, and the Viscount of Asherton accepted it with a lukewarm expression.

Now’s my only chance to find out.

Thear kept his face perfectly neutral and made a show of glancing around the Viscount.

“I don’t see your daughter anywhere. Did she not come with you?”

At his question, the Viscount of Asherton’s eyebrow twitched.

“The girl twisted her ankle this afternoon, so she’s resting. She’s a quiet sort by nature and doesn’t much care for places like this anyway.”

“I see.”

A heavy sense of disappointment settled over him. He hadn’t expected the ankle she hurt in the afternoon to get in the way like this.

He felt foolish thinking back on himself standing in front of the mirror, fussing over his appearance like a young girl.

In the end, he lingered for a while longer to keep up appearances, then left the banquet hall.

In his pocket sat Lysiana’s handkerchief, still faintly stained with blood. Along with the thanks he never got to give.

Knowing he would likely never see her again, the words that had lodged in his throat without ever being spoken kept circling inside him.

Sometimes they pricked at him like a thorn, and other times they tickled his heart like a wisp of down.

It bothered him. It was a feeling that bothered him terribly.

That lukewarm encounter, which had grown on its own and turned his insides to mud, kept trying to swallow him whole at the most unexpected moments.

The feeling, with nowhere to go, sat stranded in the middle of the forest like Lysiana had that day, and watched him for a long, long time.

How was he supposed to get rid of it?

It was only when the frustration grew nearly unbearable that Thear finally found his answer.

“How deeply you must be grieving.”

It came as an unexpected opportunity.